


Traffic Jam

by vipjuly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Car Sex, Cowboy Dean Winchester, Honestly just needed to get this out of my head, M/M, Musician Castiel, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex in the Impala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 21:36:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14529699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipjuly/pseuds/vipjuly
Summary: A ten car pile-up has the freeway shut down for two hours. Luckily, Dean had been on his way to his favorite watering hole, and packed up his cooler nice and good. Hey, he's even got enough to share with the guy in the ugly ass Lincoln Continental parked behind him.Fancy that.





	Traffic Jam

**Author's Note:**

> my hand slipped

It’s _sweltering_. Traffic has been stopped on the freeway for twenty minutes already, and when Dean tunes into the AM news stations they’re all saying the same thing: the freeway is going to be shut down for at least two hours while crews clean up a ten car pile-up a few miles ahead. The smarmy bastards suggest climbing the guard rails to hit the nearest gas station for snacks and water to stay hydrated, but Dean, ever prepared for any situation, looks at his green cooler in the backseat, happy that he’d loaded it up with ice and beverages before leaving his house this morning. 

Turning off his car so the engine doesn’t overheat, Dean stares out at all of the other cars currently parked or idling. Pretty much everyone has their windows rolled up and A/C on blast and Dean curses his classic car and lack of freon as he looks around the leather seating, knowing he’ll basically die if he stays inside. Reaching over the bench seat and into the cooler he pulls out a beer, figuring fuck it, the cops are busy a few miles ahead with their mess, popping the cap off with his ring and opening his door with a _crrrrk_ so he can exit. 

There’s only a minor reprieve, now that he’s outside; there’s a slight breeze blowing over the freeway, but the hot sun is beating onto the pavement and sending waves up to uncomfortably lick at Dean and all the damn layers he decided to wear today. Sweat trickles down his temple.

Why can’t he just take a day off and go fishing without any problems?

Leaning against his car and hooking his free thumb into his belt loops, he brings his beer to his lips and continues to people watch. Some young kids are in a car with the windows down blaring whatever pop song is trendy right now, singing it at the top of their lungs, and thankfully they’re not so close that Dean can actually understand what they’re saying. He takes another swill of beer, enjoying the refreshing coolness that lasts even just momentarily, and wonders idly why he doesn’t own a pair of sunglasses.

“Got any more?” 

Dean blinks, slightly surprised by the sound of a voice coming from the car parked behind his. He sees the car before he sees the dude and Dean doesn’t hide his grimace; that old Lincoln Continental should have been involved in the wreck ahead just so this guy could get a new car. Then, Dean’s gaze finally rests on the man currently walking towards him, and feels any ill thoughts immediately get swept under the proverbial rug. 

Tall, dark, handsome. Sunglasses cover the top half of his face but his hair is thick, dark and windswept, and he’s wearing faded jeans and a worn band tank top, tan skin and toned arms on display. It takes a few moments for Dean to register what exactly is happening and then he grins, turning to open the back door of the car and pull a beer out of the cooler, popping the cap off and holding it out towards the man.

“M’ always prepared,” Dean says by way of introduction. 

Always prepared. Always an opportunist.

The small smirk that unfurls on the man’s lips has Dean _very_ interested. “I’m sure you are.” He holds out his free hand. “Cas.”

Dean meets his hand for a shake, trying not to be weird about the fact he’s stupidly delighted in the fact that the man’s hands are just as calloused as his own. “Dean.”

“To traffic jams,” Cas says, tipping the neck of his bottle towards Dean.

After the clink, Dean settles back against his car and Castiel leans next to him, both of them enjoying the quiet and the refreshing beer.

“Where were you headed?” Dean asks near the bottom of his bottle. 

“To break up with my girlfriend,” Cas replies easily. As if the reply had reminded him, he pulls out his phone and thumbs through his texts, before snorting. “She beat me to it. Apparently ‘ten car pile-up’ doesn’t count as a reason to be late to a last dinner.”

“Ouch,” Dean winces playfully, “the good ol’ text breakup.”

“Better than doing it in person,” Cas shrugs, finishing off his beer. “She’s a crier.”

“How long were you together?” Dean asks, taking both their empty bottles and replacing them with full ones. 

Cas sends him a thankful, wry smile. “Three months.”

Dean raises both his brows. “All your track records that impressive?”

“More or less,” Cas pauses with the bottle against his lips thoughtfully. “Not one for commitment.”

Hiding his smile with a drink, Dean shrugs and nods. “I s’pose I’m the same.” 

Near the end of their second beers, Cas turns to Dean and pulls his sunglasses off of his face, beer bottle held loosely in his fingers at his side, his other hip propped against the sleek metal of the car. Deep, deep blue eyes pin Dean to the Impala and he almost chokes on his breath when his heart stutters into his throat with a flash of arousal. He covers it up with a cough, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and Cas gives him a measuring… _appraising_ look. 

“Would you like to be non-committal together?” 

Dean can’t help the easy grin on his lips, “That your way of askin’ for a one night stand?” 

“I’ve always wanted to ride a cowboy,” Cas says with that same thoughtfulness of before, like he’s not talking about getting down and dirty with a stranger.

Dean gives a cursory glance around them; no one is paying attention to them, everyone wrapped up in their own little car world, and figures: fuck it. He opens the back door of his car and moves the cooler to the front seat before climbing in, poking his head out to where Cas can see his cheesy grin. “Well, ride’s about to start.”

Cas doesn’t need any more prompting. He gets into the backseat with Dean without further comment and shuts the door behind him, pushing Dean onto his back and settling between his legs. Their mouths meet halfway for a searing kiss and damn it, Dean had forgotten until this very moment how _hot_ his car is, and Cas on top of him is only amplifying the temperature and the feel of sticky leather against skin. Cas doesn’t seem to mind, though, intent on stripping Dean as quickly and effortlessly as possible - his undershirt, his flannel, and then Cas starts working on Dean’s belt buckle, his voice gruff and low when he speaks. 

“What do you do for a living?” 

“Ranch hand,” Dean breathes when Cas’s palm rests against his growing erection. “You?”

“Record label producer,” Cas replies, sitting up on his knees. He’s hunched so he doesn’t bang his head on the roof of the Impala but even with his spine curved and shoulders turned down he’s hot as hell, yanking Dean’s jeans and boxers down. He pauses to unlace Dean’s boots with quick pulls of talented fingers and then Dean’s naked and lightheaded, Cas coming down to start laying open mouthed kisses along his chest. “Who do you think will watch us?”

“Fuck-” Dean pants out when Cas’s teeth tug on one of his nipples. “Fuck if I care.” 

He feels Cas’s smirk against his skin. “Can you sing?”

“I-” Dean’s reply gets cut off when Cas scrapes his teeth along his ribs. “Ngh, I guess.” 

“I suppose,” Cas says with patience Dean doesn’t even know exists, as he sits back slightly and pulls off his tank top, tossing it onto the footwells where Dean’s clothes are currently crumpled up, “I will find out.”

“Will you stop fucking talking-” Dean grouses as he reaches forward to undo Cas’s skinny jeans, pushing them down narrows hips. Cas doesn’t have a tan line. Dean groans with his whole body, his cock twitching to full hardness as he exposes Cas inch by inch. His hands fumble slightly and Cas finally takes pity on him and helps to take his jeans off totally and once they’re tossed into the pile Dean realizes that Cas hadn’t been wearing underwear and ok, alright, Dean is starting to really feel the arousal cloud his brain. 

“Should we be quick or take our time?” Cas asks. He fucking _asks_ like Dean has a proper response to it. And since Dean _doesn’t_ answer Cas dips down and shifts so he can bite at Dean’s hip bone. “Radio said two hours for clean up.”

“If you think we’re gonna fuck around in my car for two hours at this age you’re in for a very, very sad surprise,” Dean huffs out just as Cas licks a stripe up the underside of his cock.

“What were your plans for the day?” Cas inquires, looking up at Dean through thick, dark lashes. He presses a fucking kiss to the crown of Dean’s dick.

“Fishin’,” Dean grits out. 

Cas sends him a serene smile, “I’ve always wanted to fuck by a lake. Romantic.”

Dean rolls his eyes even as arousal punches through him and he scrabbles his hands for purchase on Cas’s shoulders, feeling needier than he has in - fuck, for a really long time. “Yeah, yeah. First this, then lake.”

Cas reaches up a hand towards Dean’s, briefly hooking their pinkies together with a murderous gleam in his eyes. “Good.” 

Despite the fact that the man just made a _pinky promise_ with Dean, Dean doesn’t lose an ounce of excitement as Cas swallows him whole. Dean tangles his fingers into Cas’s messy hair and is happy to find it free of any hair product; despite how it looks it’s soft and silky and parts easily under Dean’s fingers, just lengthy enough for a good hold as he helps guide Cas’s mouth up and down on his shaft. Tipping his head back against the leather Dean scoots slightly so he can prop his shoulders against the door for a better angle to watch, one of his legs bent up on the seat with his foot flat, the other leg extended into the footwell. He’s spread wide open in his birthday suit and he deliriously hopes that no one decides to walk by the car any time soon, or else the cops will be called about a different kind of ‘traffic jam’ happening. 

Cas is good with his mouth, practiced and easy, and when he deep throats Dean stars explode behind his eyes and the wind gets knocked out of him. Cursing in surprise Dean reaches down to pinch at the base of his dick to stave off orgasm, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted as he looks at Cas with surprise and awe.

Wiping the back of his mouth with his hand to rid it of the spit and precum that had collected there Cas sends Dean a wicked smirk. “Easy, boy.”

Dean flushes from his ears down to his chest. “Shut up. Been a while.”

Cas just hums in reply and then moves up so he can kiss Dean, deep and filthy, passing around his flavor between their tongues. He lines up their cocks and slides them together, the spit slick on Dean’s cock making the glide easy as Cas moves a hand to grip them, squeezing tight. Cas buries his face in Dean’s neck, teeth worrying the skin there, and when he speaks, Dean is pretty sure Hell itself rumbles in reply.

“You’re going to cum like this, and when we get to that lake, you’re going to cum on my cock, and then again in my mouth, and then again in my ass.”

Dean won’t admit to the whimper that leaves his mouth in response to those words. He can’t make words at all, throat dry, body sprung, balls tense as Cas grinds dirtily into him, stroking their cocks with no purposeful rhythm or pattern, merely creating a vice for them to both fuck up into. Normally Dean would be embarrassed that he’s losing it so quickly but Cas is quick on his tail so any worries he has about Cas not wanting to take this any further (read: the lake) are completely erased from Dean’s head when they both end up coming at nearly the same exact time.

All of the cum pools on Dean’s stomach and instead of getting cool and sticky it stays tepid and slick, the muggy air trapped inside the Impala keeping it from changing viscosity. Dean thunks his head back against the door to try and catch his breath and Cas shifts a little, making Dean let out a surprised moan as he starts licking up the mess settling into the planes and dips of Dean’s abdomen. 

“Shit,” Dean finally huffs out. “Fuck it’s hot.” Everything is. Cas, the car, the Earth, the fucking Sun.

Cas drags the pad of his thumb along the bottoms of the top row of his teeth, eyeing Dean like he wants to eat him alive.

Someone honks and Dean jumps upright, hitting his head against the roof of the car and cursing as he looks wildly around. It’s the car next to them, a group of girls hooting and hollering at them and Dean feels his blush in his toes as he starts quickly gathering his clothes, pulling them on in the cramped space provided to him. Cas is much more graceful as he pulls on his clothes - much more languid and lazy about it, too, and Dean is climbing over him to get out of the opposite side of the car to avoid the girls as best as possible.

Cas unfurls from the car and stretches his arms over his head, sending Dean a smirk. “You don’t enjoy an audience?”

Dean squints at Cas, and then reaches forward to pluck the man’s sunglasses from his hand and perch them on his nose. He then points to Cas’s ugly ass car, “You can have a cold water for the road, but go sit in your damn car until we start moving and then follow me to the lake.”

Cas rolls his eyes a little and then opens the driver’s side door to reach into the cooler, picking a water out of the pile of beers and then moving to walk past Dean. He stops at the man’s shoulder, leaning in to murmur lowly into his ear, “Are you clean?”

It takes a moment for the question to register, but when it does Dean cranes his neck a little and pulls the sunglasses lower on his nose so he can regard Cas. “Yeah.”

Cas’s eyes crinkle attractively in delight and he continues walking, patting Dean’s ass and speaking over his shoulder, “Good.”

Squinting after the man, Dean watches as Cas slides behind the wheel of his car and cracks open his water, sending Dean a peace sign. 

A megaphone from somewhere ahead announces that commencement of traffic, if everyone could please return to your vehicles, thank you. Dean gets back into his car and shuts the door and sends a glance over to the red Honda to his right, the girls throwing him thumbs up and miming blowjobs with their hands and mouths. Dean rolls his eyes a little but finds himself smirking, turning on his car and revving the engine. He hears the girls scream excitedly and then glances in his rear view mirror to find Cas with his head thrown back with laughter and Dean thinks to himself…

This isn’t the worst traffic jam he’s ever been in.

And he scored a pair of sunglasses.

Could have been a worse day.

**Author's Note:**

> real story: today i was stuck in traffic due to an accident and i turned off my car, pulled the e-brake, and started stripping off my layers. the dude in the car behind me got out of his car, approached my door, knocked politely, and with a very handsome smile asked "you in a hurry?" to which i replied with "Nah". nodding, he pointed towards an alley just off to my right. "pull down that alley and we'll get out of this jam together." i eyed him for a moment, then put my sunglasses on and started my car, revving the engine. "you got it."  
> and then this story was born  
> UPDATE FOR CLARITY: I DID NOT HAVE SEX WITH A STRANGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you guys fucking kill me  
> please don't expect a sequel i would rather saw off my hand at this point than start another chaptered endeavor  
> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/deansdaisydukes) if you don't value your free time and follow me on [tumblr](http://vixxo.tumblr.com) if you could give a shit about content but care a lot about self deprecating humor


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